


bong water grin, wet chin

by gloss



Series: Verde que te quiero verde [1]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Shotgunning, Sloppy Makeouts, TFLN-inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 15:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20914268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: Texts From Last Night:He's smoked my weed, stolen my cigarettes, and used my campus cash, but I try to initiate sex and NOWWW he's all "As your RA, that's a line I can't cross"Finn figures out a loophole in Poe the RA's stupid rules.





	bong water grin, wet chin

**Author's Note:**

> I will never pass up a chance to write these two shotgunning. 
> 
> Title from Danez Smith's astonishing poem, [acknowledgments](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/148357/acknowledgments).

"Obviously, what you need to do is move out." Rose is sitting cross-legged on the floor, a circuit board in her lap and soldering gun in one hand. "Find a place off-campus, bam! Get some of that weird dirtbag booty you're so set on."

"Poe's not a dirtbag," Finn mumbles, then shrugs when Rose snorts. "He's not weird, either. He's just--"

"He's a weird dirtbag," Rey calls from the kitchenette. "Accept that and move on."

"Fine." Groaning, he tips his head onto the back of the couch and glares at the ceiling. No way can he afford something off-campus, first of all. Second, he doesn't want to move. Last spring, he lucked out in the dorm lottery, scoring a single room just down the hall from Rose and Rey's suite. He fully intends to keep the room for the rest of his university career. Possibly beyond that, should he figure out how to swing it.

His room has windows on two walls and floors that slope and complain like old people. He's hung up ferns and hoyas that he scored from his summer job at the corporate monolith of home renovation supplies, so the morning light filters in through green and trailing things. 

Finn really loves his room. If he didn't know better, he'd think that Poe likes this room better than his own.

He says as much that evening, when Poe wanders down the hall and knocks on Finn's door. He uses a code, for no reason that Finn has been able to discern, two shorts and three long knocks.

"Yeah, I do," Poe says agreeably as he slouches inside. "Your room's rad. Mine's a dump."

"I can think of a couple ways to fix that."

"Yeah?" Poe sinks onto the foot of Finn's bed and scratches at his hair until it poofs up. There's a complicated-looking shawl-scarf-cape-_thing_ tossed around his neck, cascading down his front. The fabric is flimsy, crimson and orange and pink, adorned with tiny chips of mirror. Otherwise, Poe's wearing his usual tight carpenter jeans and a shrunken white t-shirt.

Next to him, Finn used to feel uptight and all too normie, with his neat cornrows and major league shirts. It didn't take long to realize that Poe's style was as absent-minded as the rest of him. He certainly wasn't judging anyone.

"Hungry?" Finn asks. He still gets an entirely embarrassing thrill that this guy, hot and weird and handsome, wants to hang out with him. He needs to get a grip and stop trying to reward Poe with snacks and weed. He'll do that. Soon.

Poe grins and sits up a little, braced on his elbows. "What's on the menu?"

Finn opens the bottom drawer to his desk to check. "Oreos, protein bars—" Poe retches rather theatrically. "—shut up, they're good for you. Dried apricots? Banana chips. Three peppermints."

"You're like a sexy grandma," Poe says, and his voice sounds warm, so Finn decides that was a compliment. "Toss the Oreos over?"

Finn hands him the package. "Enjoy."

"What're you up to?" Poe asks with his mouth full. He raises his brows dramatically. "Am I interrupting?"

"Always," Finn tells him. "Just finishing a problem set and then I was thinking of —"

Poe waves both hands, one of which is grasping three Oreos ready to stuff into his mouth. "Wait, wait, let me guess!"

Finn sits back in his chair and twiddles his pencil. Poe nods and chews and nods some more; every so often he catches Finn's eye and winks. It should look stupid. It _does_ look stupid. But Finn's stupidly into this weird mooching dirtbag who's lying on his bed, shirt riding up his waist, cookie crumbs drifting over his chin and shawl.

"Are you going to guess?" Finn finally asks.

Poe blinks rapidly. "I sent you the answer telepathetically! You didn't get it?"

"Telepathically?" Finn asks, then feels like an asshole pedant.

"Tomato, tomato. Anyway, did you get it?"

Finn steeples his fingers and _hmmmms_ for a bit. Getting Poe's attention like this, having him sit up and look at Finn, really _look_, makes Finn warm and proud, curious and confident. He's had crushes before, but he's never had someone look at him quite like this.

"I'm getting..." He closes his eyes and tilts his head. The bed creaks as Poe scoots closer. Finn opens his eyes to find Poe leaning in, all of a foot away. "You guessed bong rips with my favorite RA?"

"Sweet! Yes!" Poe pumps his fist and shoves Finn's shoulder in celebration. "Hand me the stuff, I'll get us ready."

Finn gets him set up and returns to his problem set. He likes having Poe around when he's working; he's activated, almost, prickling with awareness, which seems to be fairly conducive to working out solutions and writing essays. He just feels, somehow, more real and present when Poe's around. Closer to where he ought to be, who he wants to be.

Still, he much prefers not working when Poe's around. He closes his laptop, stows away his notes and pencils, and slides his chair right up to the edge of the bed. Poe sits cross-legged, staring down intently as he packs the bowl and taps at the carb. It takes him a little to notice Finn, but when he looks up, blinking through the steam, he smiles slowly and sweetly.

"Hey," he says. "All done, Einstein?"

"I'm not —" Finn waves that off. "Yeah."

"Cool." Poe goes to offer Finn the bong, but Finn shakes his head. Shrugging, Poe fits his mouth around the shaft. It's an image Finn thinks about _a lot_, Poe's lashes, his hollowing cheeks, the stretch of his lips. As much as he thinks about it, the reality is always that much hotter.

"You know," Finn says, as the water bubbles and Poe pulls off, "I've been thinking about your stupid no-sex rule."

Poe's eyes go wide and his lips start to part before he catches himself.

"So I figured something out," Finn continues, and he's as close as he can get, one hand on the mattress next to Poe's leg, the other reaching to get the bong out of the way. "You only want to smoke up with me?"

Poe scowls at that, but it's not like he can _talk_ right now. The strange power of this moment sings and buzzes across Finn's back, down his spine.

"Kiss me," Finn concludes. "If it's shotgunning, it's allowed."

Poe starts to smile, points at Finn, then curls that index finger into the neckband of Finn's shirt and tugs him forward. The chair goes skating out from under Finn as he rises and gets a knee on the bed. Poe frees his shirt and slides his hand around the side of Finn's neck.

Finn's not even stoned yet and this is taking forever and he doesn't want it to ever stop. He tips his head a little and brushes his lips over Poe's and opens his mouth. The touch makes him buzz, his nerves shouting. Poe's hand closes around the back of Finn's head and he kisses roughly, impatiently, which is _more than fine_ by Finn. Finn kisses him back, inhaling the lemony-sour steam, then just Poe's tongue, and at some point he's pretty sure his brain unlocks from his brainstem and starts floating upward.

"Take another hit," Poe says, mouth smearing up along Finn's cheek. "Hurry up, dude."

Finn fumbles for the bong, then has to hunt down the lighter, all as Poe chants _hurry up, hurry up, wanna kiss you_, which is hugely satisfying but also not all that helpful. When he gets everything all lined up, Poe continues to not help by touching Finn's neck and shoulder, the curve of his ear.

"Man! One fucking second," Finn says and Poe grins but doesn't stop. Finn gets a nice big lungful, _finally_, and before the bong's set back down, Poe's mouth is latching onto Finn's and he's pulling himself up Finn's body at the same time he's tugging Finn over onto the bed. The bong makes it to the safety of the floor and Finn's rolling onto his side, kissing Poe and breathing out and in. His lungs are kind of stuttering, and his fingers tingle as they grab at Poe's shirt and that weird shawl-thing, and now Poe's working his knee between Finn's and laughing into the kiss.

"What?" Finn asks, already hoarse and long-since breathless.

"We're gonna spend _so much_ on weed!" Poe says. "If I have to smoke up every time I want to touch you?"

"Local Dealer Buys Yacht," Finn intones. "Should buy shares in Cannabi-Corp, yeah."

"Green like money," Poe says and kisses him again. Finn finds the stripe of skin between Poe's shirt and waistband, and it's _hot_ and smooth and probably the nicest thing Finn has ever touched. When Finn rubs the skin there, Poe makes little gulping sounds that could almost be purrs.

He's so stoned, and horny, and head over heels crushing hard. Among other things.


End file.
